


Stop And Smell The Grimm

by Nellie



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Animal Traits, M/M, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 02:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellie/pseuds/Nellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Nick forgets exactly how good Monroe's sense of smell is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop And Smell The Grimm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gryvon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryvon/gifts).



“I really hope you appreciate how confusing it is for me when you show up smelling like this.”

Nick pauses in the hallway and examines his sleeve, but he definitely didn’t put on a dirty jacket. “Like what?”

“Like a mix between something I want to hunt and someone I’m sexually attracted to.” Monroe leans over and noses roughly at his hair, sniffing. “I’m not sure if I want to eat you or fuck you.”

“Why... oh. I was at the--”

“Goats,” Monroe says, nuzzling lower to the spot he seems to particularly like just behind Nick’s ear.

Nick tilts his head to the side to offer better access. “Yeah, there were a few thefts reported at the annual goat show, so Hank and I went down to talk to some people.” His voice hitches as Monroe licks down over his pulse, tonguing along the curve of his neck. “For the record, I really prefer the fucking option to the eating one.”

“I don’t know,” Monroe bites down on his throat; not hard enough to leave a mark, not yet, but Nick shivers at the suggestion of it anyway. “You taste pretty damn good, man.” Monroe licks his way back up his neck and then butts his jaw against Nick’s, the rough scrape of his beard harsh in contrast to the slick heat of his tongue.

“Tasting is fine. Devouring is not.” Nick’s not scared, not really, even knowing how quickly those teeth can turn to fangs and sink into flesh, but his heartbeat still jumps up a notch when Monroe buries a hand in his hair and tugs his head back with a quick jerk.

“If I ever decided I wanted to tear your throat out, you couldn’t stop me,” Monroe growls, closing his teeth over the hard line of Nick’s trachea, holding with just enough pressure to threaten. When he looks up again his eyes take a few seconds to fade from red. “You shouldn’t bait me.”

“I wasn’t,” Nick says, careful not to struggle. “I didn’t think you’d smell the goats after I showered and changed my clothes.”

Monroe laughs and lets go of Nick’s hair, crowding him back against the wall instead. This close, he’s noticeably taller, and Nick swallows the sudden rush the realisation always gives him. Monroe _could_ break him. But he never does.

“I can smell a lot more than that.” He grabs Nick’s shoulders and dips his head to the hollow of his throat again, brushing his nose against the skin. “You ate chicken soup for lunch.”

“Well that’s not a hard one, is it,” Nick says, leaning more of his weight against the wall and spreading his legs a little.

“Oh, okay, we’re playing that game are we.” Monroe pushes Nick’s jacket off one shoulder and sniffs along the curve, stops, mouths at the muscle. “Your thieving little friend is a Raubkobold.”

Every bit of tension that was starting to seep out of Nick’s body springs back, and he tries to stand up properly. “Wait, what?”

Monroe plants a heavy hand on Nick’s chest, pinning him to the wall and licking his collarbone. “You walked past three dogs on your way to work this morning. And you...” he scrapes his teeth over the thin skin and bone, making Nick’s toes curl in his boots. “You jerked off in the shower before that.”

The question about the Raubkobold dies on Nick’s tongue, and he has no idea what to say because it’s _true_. The memory curls warm and pleasant down low in his stomach, and he shifts his hips against the weight of Monroe’s body. “I...”

“Were you at least thinking about me?” Monroe slides his hands down to Nick’s hips and squeezes, looking him in the eye. “I’ll be pretty offended if you weren’t.”

Nick doesn’t answer, but he knows he doesn’t have to; not when Monroe’s pupils bleed from brown to red again and his nose twitches. He leans close and licks at the corner of Nick’s jaw, growling softly.

“Maybe we should go upstairs,” Nick murmurs, shifting against the sudden prick of sharp claws on his hips.

“Maybe,” Monroe says, distracted.

Nick lets him nuzzle the curve of his throat for a few more seconds; the knowledge that Monroe is rubbing his _own_ scent onto Nick’s skin making something warm and comforting settle low in his stomach.

Then he grins, takes a deep breath, and twists out of Monroe’s grip. So it’s dangerous to bait him... that doesn’t mean Nick never does, just to feel his heart pound. “Chase me.”

He takes the stairs two at a time, and doesn’t look back.


End file.
